Two

           Heissomewheredeepbeneaththeground:inatunnel,perhaps,orasewer.Lightcomesinflickers,definingthedarkness,notdispellingit.Heisnotalone.Thereareotherpeoplewalkingbesidehim,althoughhecannotseetheirfaces.Theyarerunning,now,throughtheinsideofthesewer,splashingthroughthemudandfilth.Dropletsofwaterfallslowlythroughtheair,crystalclearinthedarkness.

           Heturnsacorner,andthebeastiswaitingforhim.

           Itishuge.Itfillsthespaceofthesewer:massiveheaddown,bristledbodyandbreathsteaminginthechilloftheair.Somekindofboar,hethinksatfirst,andthenrealizesthatnoboarcouldbesohuge.Itisthesizeofabull,ofatiger,ofanox.

           Itstaresathim,anditpausesforahundredyears,whileheliftshisspear.Heglancesathishand,holdingthespear,andobservesthatitisnothishand:thearmisfurredwithdarkhair,thenailsarealmostclaws.

           Andthenthebeastcharges.

           Hethrowshisspear,butitisalreadytoolate,andhefeelsthebeastslicehissidewithrazor-sharptusks,feelshislifeslipawayintothemud:andherealizeshehasfallenfacedownintothewater,whichcrimsonsinthickswirlsofsuffocatingblood.Andhetriessotoscream,hetriestowakeup,buthecanbreatheonlymudandbloodandwater,hecanfeelonlypain...

           "Baddream?"askedthegirl.

           Richardsatuponthecouch,gaspingforbreath.Thecurtainswerestilldrawn,thelightsandthetelevisionstillon,buthecouldtell,fromthepalelightcominginthroughthecracks,thatitwasmorning.